On the wide ascent leading to the Serapeum the praetorians stood awaiting
Caesar's commands. They had not yet formed in rank and file, but were
grouped round the centurion Martialis, who had come to tell them, sadly,
of his removal to Edessa, and to take leave of his comrades. He gave his
hand to each one of them in turn, and received a kindly pressure in
return; for the stubborn fellow, though not of the cleverest, had proved
himself a good soldier, and to many of them a trusty friend. There was
not one who did not regret his going from among them. But Caesar had
spoken, and there was no gainsaying his orders. In the camp, after
service, they might talk the matter over; for the present it were wise to
guard their tongues.

The centurion had just said farewell to the last of his cohort, when the
prefect, with the legate Quintus Flavius Nobilior, who commanded the
legion, and several other higher officers, appeared among them. Macrinus
greeted them briefly, and, instead of having the tuba blown as usual and
letting them fall into their ranks, he told them to gather close round
him, the centurions in front. He then disclosed to them the emperor's
secret orders. Caesar, he began, had long exercised patience and mercy,
but the insolence and malice of the Alexandrians knew no bounds;
therefore, in virtue of his power over life and death, he had pronounced
judgment upon them. To them as being nearest to his person he handed over
the most remunerative part of the work of punishment. Whomsoever they
found on the Kanopic way, the greatest and richest thoroughfare of the
city, they were to cut down as they would the rebellious inhabitants of a
conquered town. Only the women and children and the slaves were to be
spared. If for this task, a hideous one at best, they chose to pay
themselves out of the treasures of the citizens, nobody would blame them.

A loud cheer followed these orders, and many an eye gleamed brighter.
Even the coolest among them seemed to see a broad, deep pool of blood
into which he need only dip his hand and bring out something worth the
catching. And the fish that were to be had there were not miserable carp,
but heavy gold and silver vessels, and coins and magnificent ornaments.
Macrinus then proceeded to inform the higher and lower officers of the
course of action he had agreed upon with the emperor and Zminis. Seven
trumpet-blasts from the terrace of the Serapeum would give the signal for
the attack to begin. Then they were to advance, maniple on maniple; but
they were not required to keep their ranks--each man had his own work to
do. The legion was to assemble again at sunset at the Gate of the Sun, at
the eastern end of the road, after having swept it from end to end.

By order of the emperor, each man, however, must be particularly careful
whom he cut down in any hiding-place, for Caesar wished to give the
following Alexandrians--who had sinned most flagrantly against him--the
benefit of a trial, and they must therefore be taken alive. He then named
the gem-cutter Heron, his son Alexander, and his daughter Melissa, the
Alexandrian senator Polybius, his son Diodoros, and the wife of Seleukus.

He described them as well as he was able. For each one Caesar promised a
reward of three thousand drachmas, and for Heron's daughter twice as
much, but only on condition of their being delivered up unhurt. It would
therefore be to their own advantage to keep their eyes open in the
houses, and to be cautious. Whoever should take the daughter of the
gem-cutter--and he described Melissa once more--would render a special
service to Caesar and might reckon on promotion.

The centurion Julius Martialis stayed to hear the end of this discourse,
and then hurriedly departed. He felt just as he had done in the war with
the Alemanni when a red-haired German had dealt him a blow on the helmet
with his club. His head whirled and swam as it did then--only to-day
blood-red lights danced before his eyes instead of deep blue and gold. It
was some time before he could collect his thoughts to any purpose; but
when he did, he clinched his fists as he recalled Caesar's malignant
cruelty in forcing him away from his family.

Presently his large mouth widened into a satisfied smile. He was no
longer in that company, and need take no part in the horrid butchery. In
any other place he would no doubt have joined in it like the rest, glad
of the rich booty; but here, in his own home, where his mother and wife
and child dwelt, it seemed a monstrous and accursed deed. Besides the
gemcutter's family, in whom Martialis took no interest, Caesar seemed to
have a special grudge against the lady Berenike, whose husband Seleukus
had been master to the centurion's father; nay, his own wife was still in
the service of the merchant.

Not being skilled in any trade, he had entered the army early. As
Evocatus he had married the daughter of a free gardener of Seleukus, and
when he was ordered to Rome to join the praetorians his wife had obtained
the post of superintendent of the merchant's villa at Kanopus. For this
they had to thank the kindness of the lady Berenike and her now dead
daughter Korinna; and he was honestly grateful to the wife of Seleukus,
for, as his wife was established in the villa, he could leave her without
anxiety and go with the army wherever it was ordered.

Having by this time reached the Kanopic street on his way to his family,
he perceived the statues of Hermes and Demeter which stood on each side
of the entrance to the merchant's house, and his slow mind recapitulated
the long list of benefits he had received from Seleukus and his wife; a
secret voice urged upon him that it was his duty to warn them.

He owed nothing to Caesar, that crafty butcher, who out of pure malice
could deprive an honest soldier of his only joy in life and cheat him of
half his pay--for the praetorians had twice the wages of the other
troops; and if he only knew some handicraft, he would throw away his
sword today.

Here, at least, he could interfere with Caesar's ruthless schemes,
besides doing his benefactors a good turn. He therefore entered the house
of the merchant, instead of pursuing on his homeward way.

He was well known, and the mistress of the house was at once apprised of
his arrival.

All the lower apartments were empty, the soldiers who had been quartered
in them having joined the others at the Serapeum.

But what had happened to the exquisite garden in the impluvium? What
hideous traces showed where the soldiers had camped, and, drunk with
their host's costly wine, had given free play to their reckless spirits!

The velvet lawn looked like a stable-floor; the rare shrubs had been
denuded of their flowers and branches. Blackened patches on the mosaic
pavement showed where fires had been kindled; the colonnades were turned
into drying-grounds for the soldiers' linen, and a rope on which hung
some newly washed clothes was wound at one end round the neck of a Venus
from the hand of Praxiteles, and at the other round the lyre of an Apollo
fashioned in marble by Bryaxis. Some Indian shrubs, of which his
father-in-law had been very proud, were trampled underfoot; and in the
great banqueting-hall, which had served as sleeping-room for a hundred
praetorians, costly cushions and draperies were strewn, torn from the
couches and walls to make their beds more comfortable.

Used to the sights of war as he was, the soldier ground his teeth with
wrath at this scene. As long as he could remember, he had looked upon
everything here with reverence and awe; and to think that his comrades
had destroyed it all made his blood boil.

As he approached the women's apartments he took fright. How was he to
disclose to his mistress what threatened her?

But it must be done; so he followed the waiting-maid Johanna, who led him
to her lady's livingroom.

In it sat the Christian steward Johannes, with writing tablets and
scrolls of papyrus, working in the service of his patroness. She herself
was with the wounded Aurelius; and Martialis, on hearing this, begged to
be admitted to her.

Berenike was in the act of renewing the wounded soldier's bandages, and
when the centurion saw how cruelly disfigured was the handsome, blooming
face of the young tribune, to whom he was heartily attached, the tears
rose to his eyes. The matron observed it, and witnessed with much
surprise the affectionate greeting between the young noble and the plain
soldier.

The centurion greeted her respectfully; but it was not till Nernesianus
asked him how it was that the troops had been called to arms at this
hour, that Martialis plucked up courage and begged the lady of the house
to grant him an interview.

But Berenike had still to wash and bandage the wounds of her patient--a
task which she always performed herself and with the greatest care; she
therefore promised the soldier to be at his disposal in half an hour.

"Then it will be too late!" burst from the lips of the centurion; then
she knew, by his voice and the terror-stricken aspect of the man whom she
had known so long, that he meant to warn her, and there was but one from
whom the danger could come.

The imperious gaze of Berenike's large eyes so overpowered the simple
soldier as to render him speechless for a while. But Caesar had
threatened his mistress's life--he must collect himself, and thus he
managed to stammer:

"No, lady, no! He will not have you killed assuredly not! On the
contrary-they are to let you live when they cut down the others!"

"Cut down!" cried Apollinaris, raising himself up and staring horrified
at this messenger of terror; but his brother laid his hand upon the
centurion's broad shoulder, and, shaking him vigorously, commanded him as
his tribune to speak out.

The soldier, ever accustomed to obey, and only too anxious that his
warning should not come too late, disclosed in hurried words what he had
learned from the prefect. The brothers interrupted him from time to time
with some exclamation of horror or disgust, but Berenike remained silent
till Martialis stopped with a deep breath.

Then the lady gave a shrill laugh, and as the others looked at her in
amazement she said coolly "You men will wade through blood and shame with
that reprobate, if he but orders you to do so. I am only a woman, and yet
I will show him that there are limits even to his malignity."

She remained for a few moments lost in thought, and then ordered the
centurion to go and find out where her husband was.

Martialis obeyed at once, and no sooner was the door closed behind him
than she turned to the two brothers, and addressing herself first to one
and then to the other with equal vehemence, she cried "Who is right now?
Of all the villains who have brought shame upon the throne and name of
mighty Caesar, this is the most dastardly. He has written plainly enough
upon Apollinaris's face how much he values a brave soldier, the son of a
noble house. And you, Nemesianus--are you not also an Aurelius? You say
so; and yet, had he not chanced to let you care for your brother, you
would at this moment be wandering through the city like a mad dog, biting
all who crossed your path. Why do you not speak? Why not tell me once
more, Nemesianus, that a soldier must obey his commander blindly?--And
you, Apollinaris, will you dare still to assert that the hand with which
Caesar tore your face was guided only by righteous indignation at an
insult offered to an innocent maiden? Have you the courage to excuse the
murders by Caracalla of his own wife, and many other noble women, by his
anxiety for the safety of throne and state? I, too, am a woman, and may
hold up my head with the best; but what have I to do with the state or
with the throne? My eye met his, and from that moment the fiend was my
deadly enemy. A quick death at the hands of one of his soldiers seemed
too good for the woman he hated. Wild beasts were to tear me to pieces
before his eyes. Is that not sufficient for you? Put every abomination
together, everything unworthy of an honorable man and abhorrent to the
gods, and you have the man whom you so willingly obey. I am only the wife
of a citizen. But were I the widow of a noble Aurelian and your mother--"
Here Apollinaris, whose wounds were beginning to burn again, broke in:
"She would have counseled us to leave revenge to the gods. He is Caesar!"

"He is a villain!" shrieked the matron--"the curse, the shame of
humanity, a damnable destroyer of peace and honor and life, such as the
world has never beheld before! To kill him would be to earn the gratitude
and blessing of the universe. And you, the scions of a noble house, you,
I say, prove that there still are men among so many slaves! It is Rome
herself who calls you through me--like her, a woman maltreated and
wounded to the heart's core--to bear arms in her service till she gives
you the signal for making an end of the dastardly blood hound!"

The brothers gazed at one another pale and speechless, till at last
Nemesianus ventured to say "He deserves to die, we know, a thousand
deaths, but we are neither judges nor executioners. We can not do the
work of the assassin."

"No, lady, we can not," added Apollinaris, and shook his wounded head
energetically.

But the lady, nothing daunted, went on: "Who has ever called Brutus a
murderer? You are young--Life lies before you. To plunge a sword into the
heart of this monster is a deed for which you are too good. But I know a
hand that understands its work and would be ready to guide the steel.
Call it out at the right moment and be its guide!"

"It is there," replied Berenike, pointing to Martialis, who entered the
room at that moment. Again the brothers interchanged looks of doubt, but
the lady cried: "Consider for a moment! I would fain go hence with the
certainty that the one burning desire shall be fulfilled which still
warms this frozen heart."

She motioned to the centurion, left the apartment with him, and preceded
him to her own room. Arrived there, she ordered the astonished freedman
Johannes, in his office as notary, to add a codicil to her will. In the
event of her death, she left to Xanthe, the wife of the centurion
Martialis, her lawful property the villa at Kanopus, with all it
contained, and the gardens appertaining to it, for the free use of
herself and her children.

The soldier listened speechless with astonishment. This gift was worth
twenty houses in the city, and made its owner a rich man. But the
testator was scarcely ten years older than his Xanthe, and, as he kissed
the hem of his mistress's robe in grateful emotion, he cried: "May the
gods reward you for your generosity; but we will pray and offer up
sacrifices that it may be long before this comes into our hands!"

The lady shook her head with a bitter smile, and, drawing the soldier
aside, she disclosed to him in rapid words her determination to quit this
life before the praetorians entered the house. She then informed the
horror-stricken man that she had chosen him to be her avenger. To him,
too, the emperor had dealt a malicious blow. Let him remember that, when
the time came to plunge the sword in the tyrant's heart. Should this
deed, however, cost Martialis his life--which he had risked in many a
battle for miserable pay--her will would enable his widow to bring up
their children in happiness and comfort.

The centurion had thrown in a deprecatory word or two, but Berenike
continued as if she had not heard him, till at last Martialis cried:

"You ask too much of me, lady. Caesar is hateful to me, but I am no
longer one of the praetorians, and am banished the country. How is it
possible that I should approach him? How dare I, a common man--"

"You will perform this deed to which I have appointed you in the name of
all the just. We demand nothing from you but your sword. Greater men than
you--the two Aurelians--will guide it. At their word of command you will
do the deed. When they give you the signal, brave Martialis, remember the
unfortunate woman in Alexandria whose death you swore to revenge. As soon
as the tribunes--"

But the centurion was suddenly transformed. "If the tribunes command it,"
he interrupted with decision, his dull eye flashing--"if they demand it
of me, I do it willingly. Tell them Martialis's sword is ever at their
service. It has made short work of stronger men than that vicious
stripling."

Berenike gave the soldier her hand, thanked him hurriedly, and begged
him, as he could pass unharmed through the city, to hasten to her
husband's counting-house by the water-side, to warn him and carry him her
last greetings.

With tears in his eyes Martialis did as she desired. When he had gone,
the steward began to implore his mistress to conceal herself, and not
cast away God's gift of life so sinfully; but she turned from him
resolutely though kindly, and repaired once more to the brothers' room.

One glance at them disclosed to her that they had come to no definite
conclusion; but their hesitation vanished as soon as they heard that the
centurion was ready to draw his sword upon the emperor when they should
give the signal; and Berenike breathed a sigh of relief at this
resolution, and clasped their hands in gratitude.

She answered with a bitter smile: "He? He has the gift of being easily
consoled.--But what was that?"

Loud voices were audible outside the sick-room. Nemesianus stationed
himself in front of the lady, sword in hand. This protection, however,
proved unnecessary, for, instead of the praetorians, Johanna entered the
room, supporting on her arm the half-sinking form of a young man in whom
no one would have recognized the once beautifully curled and carefully
dressed Alexander. A long caracalla covered his tall form; Dido the slave
had cut off his hair, and he himself had disguised his features with
streaks of paint. A large, broad-brimmed hat had slipped to the back of
his head like a drunken man's, and covered a wound from which the red
blood flowed down upon his neck. His whole aspect breathed pain and
horror, and Berenike, who took him for a hired cut-throat sent by
Caracalla, retreated hastily from him till Johanna revealed his name.

He nodded his head in confirmation, and then sank exhausted on his knees
beside Apollinaris's couch and managed with great difficulty to stammer
out: "I am searching for Philip. He went into the town-ill-out of his
senses. Did he not come to you?"

"No," answered Berenike. "But what is this fresh blood? Has the slaughter
begun?"

The wounded man nodded. Then he continued, with a groan: "In front of the
house of your neighbor Milon--the back of my head--I fled--a lance--"

His voice failed him, and Berenike cried to the tribune: "Support him,
Nemesianus! Look after him and tend him. He is the brother of the
maiden--you know--If I know you, you will do all in your power for him,
and keep him hidden here till all danger is over."

"We will defend him with our lives!" cried Apollinaris, giving his hand
to the lady.

But he withdrew it quickly, for from the impluvium arose the rattle of
arms, and loud, confused noise.

Berenike threw up her head and lifted her hands as if in prayer. Her
bosom heaved with her deep breath, the delicate nostrils quivered, and
the great eyes flashed with wrathful light. For a moment she stood thus
silent, then let her arms fall, and cried to the tribunes:

"My curse be upon you if you forget what you owe to yourselves, to the
Roman Empire, and to your dying friend. My blessing, if you hold fast to
what you have promised."

She pressed their hands, and, turning to do the same to the artist, found
that he had lost consciousness. Johanna and Nemesianus had removed his
hat and caracalla, to attend to his wound.

A strange smile passed over the matron's stern features. Snatching the
Gallic mantle from the Christian's hand, she threw it over her own
shoulders, exclaiming:

"How the ruffian will wonder when, instead of the living woman, they
bring him a corpse wrapped in his barbarian's mantle!"

She pressed the hat upon her head, and from a corner of the room where
the brothers' weapons stood, selected a hunting-spear. She asked if this
weapon might be recognized as belonging to them, and, on their answering
in the negative, said:

"Your brother will help you to burn Korinna's picture. No shameless gaze
shall dishonor it again." She tore her hand from that of the Christian,
who, with hot tears, tried to hold her back; then, carrying her head
proudly erect, she left them.

The brothers gazed shudderingly after her. "And to know," cried
Nemesianus, striking his forehead, "that our own comrades will slay her!
Never were the swords of Rome so disgraced!"

"Yes--her, and--may the gods hear me!--you too, Apollinaris," swore the
other, lifting his hand as for an oath.

Loud screams, the clash of arms, and quick orders sounded from below and
broke in upon the tribune's vow. He was rushing to the window to draw
back the curtain and look upon the horrid deed with his own eyes, when
Apollinaris called him back, reminding him of their duty toward Melissa's
brother, who was lost if the others discovered him here.

Hereupon Nemesianus lifted the fainting youth in his strong arms and
carried him into the adjoining room, laying him upon the mat which had
served their faithful old slave as a bed. He then covered him with his
own mantle, after hastily binding up the wound on his head and another on
his shoulder.

By the time the tribune returned to his brother the noise outside had
grown considerably less, only pitiable cries of anguish mingled with the
shouts of the soldiers.

Nemesianus hastily pulled aside the curtain, letting such a flood of
blinding sunshine into the room that Apollinaris covered his wounded face
with his hands and groaned aloud.

"Sickening! Horrible! Unheard of!" cried his brother, beside himself at
the sight that met his eyes. "A battle-field! What do I say? The peaceful
house of a Roman citizen turned into shambles. Fifteen, twenty, thirty
bodies on the grass! And the sunshine plays as brightly on the pools of
blood and the arms of the soldiers as if it rejoiced in it all. But
there--Oh, brother! our Marcipor--there lies our dear old Marci!--and
beside him the basket of roses he had fetched for the lady Berenike from
the flower-market. There they be, steeped in blood, the red and white
roses; and the bright sun looks down from heaven and laughs upon it!"

He broke down into sobs, and then continued, gnashing his teeth with
rage: "Apollo smiles upon it, but he sees it; and wait--wait but a little
longer, Tarautas! The god stretches out his hand already for the avenging
bow! Has Berenike ventured among them? Near the fountain-how it flashes
and glitters with the hues of Iris!--they are crowding round something on
the ground--Mayhap the body of Seleukus. No--the crowd is separating.
Eternal gods! It is she--it is the woman who tended you!"

"She is lying on the ground with a spear in her bosom. Now the
legate-yes, it is Quintus Flavius Nobilior--bends over her and draws it
out. Dead--dead! and slain by a man of our cohort!"

He clasped his hands before his face, while Apollinaris muttered curses,
and the name of their faithful Marcipor, who had served their father
before them, coupled with wild vows of vengeance.

Nemesianus at length composed himself sufficiently to follow the course
of the horrible events going on below.

"Now," he went on, describing it to his brother, "now they are
surrounding Rufus. That merciless scoundrel must have done something
abominable, that even goes beyond what his fellows can put up with. There
they have caught a slave with a bundle in his hand, perhaps stolen goods.
They will punish him with death, and are themselves no better than he. If
you could only see how they come swarming from every side with their
costly plunder! The magnificent golden jug set with jewels, out of which
the lady Berenike poured the Byblos wine for you, is there too!--Are we
still soldiers, or robbers and murderers?"

They were startled by the approaching rattle of arms in the corridor, and
then a loud knock at the chamber-door. The next moment a soldier's head
appeared in the doorway, to be quickly withdrawn with the exclamation,
"It is true--here lies Apollinaris!"

"One moment," said a second deep voice, and over the threshold stepped
the legate of the legion, Quintus Flavius Nobilior, in all the panoply of
war, and saluted the brothers.

Like them, he came of an old and honorable race, and was acting in place
of the prefect Macrinus, whose office in the state prevented him from
taking the military command of that mighty corps, the praetorians. Twenty
years older than the twins, and a companion-in-arms of their father, he
had managed their rapid promotion. He was their faithful friend and
patron, and Apollinaris's misfortune had disgusted him no less than the
order in the execution of which he was now obliged to take part. Having
greeted the brothers affectionately, observed their painful emotion, and
heard their complaints over the murder of their slave, he shook his manly
head, and pointing to the blood that dripped from his boots and greaves,
"Forgive me for thus defiling your apartments," he said. "If we came from
slaughtering men upon the field of battle, it could only do honor to the
soldier; but this is the blood of defenseless citizens, and even women's
gore is mixed with it."

"I saw the body of the lady of this house," said Nemesianus, gloomily.
"She has tended my brother like a mother."

"But, on the other hand, she was imprudent enough to draw down Caesar's
displeasure upon her," interposed the Flavian, shrugging his shoulders.
"We were to bring her to him alive, but he had anything but friendly
intentions toward her; however, she spoiled his game. A wonderful woman!
I have scarcely seen a man look death--and self-sought death--in the face
like that! While the soldiers down there were massacring all who fell
into their hands--those were the orders, and I looked on at the butchery,
for, rather than--well, you can imagine that for yourselves--through one
of the doors there came a tall, extraordinary figure. The wide brim of a
traveling hat concealed the features, and it was wrapped in one of the
emperor's fool's mantles. It hurried toward the maniple of Sempronius,
brandishing a javelin, and with a sonorous voice reviling the soldiers
till even my temper was roused. Here I caught sight of a flowing robe
beneath the caracalla, and, the hat having fallen back, a beautiful
woman's face with large and fear-inspiring eyes. Then it suddenly flashed
upon me that this grim despiser of death, being a woman, was doubtless
she whom we were to spare. I shouted this to my men; but--and at that
moment I was heartily ashamed of my profession--it was too late. Tall
Rufus pierced her through with his lance. Even in falling she preserved
the dignity of a queen, and when the men surrounded her she fixed each
one separately with her wonderful eyes and spoke through the death-rattle
in her throat:

"'Shame upon men and soldiers who let themselves be hounded on like dogs
to murder and dishonor!' Rufus raised his sword to make an end of her,
but I caught his arm and knelt beside her, begging her to let me see to
her wound. With that she seized the lance in her breast with both hands,
and with her last breath murmured, 'He desired to see the living
woman--bring him my body, and my curse with it! Then with a last supreme
effort she buried the spear still deeper in her bosom; but it was not
necessary.

"I gazed petrified at the high-bred, wrathful face, still beautiful in
death, and the mysterious, wide-open eyes that must have flashed so
proudly in life. It was enough to drive a man mad. Even after I had
closed her eyes and spread the mantle over her--"

"I caused it to be carried into the house and the door of the
death-chamber carefully locked. But when I returned to the men. I had to
prevent them from tearing Rufus to pieces for having lost them the large
reward which Caesar had promised for the living prisoner."

"And you," cried Apollinaris, excitedly, "had to look on while our men,
honest soldiers, plundered this house--which entertained many of us so
hospitably--as if they had been a band of robbers! I saw them dragging
out things which were used in our service only yesterday."

"The emperor--his permission!" sighed Flavius. "You know how it is. The
lowest instincts of every nature come out at such a time as this, and the
sun shines upon it all. Many a poor wretch of yesterday will go to bed a
wealthy man to-day. But, for all that, I believe much was hidden from
them. In the room of the mistress of the house whence I have just come, a
fire was still blazing in which a variety of objects had been burned. The
flames had destroyed a picture--a small painted fragment betrayed the
fact. They perhaps possessed masterpieces of Apelles or Zeuxis. This
woman's hatred would lead her to destroy them rather than let them fall
into the hands of her imperial enemy; and who can blame her?"

The legate turned upon him in surprise. "Then she confided in you?" he
asked.

"Yes," returned the tribune, "and we are proud to have been so honored by
her. Before she went to her death she took leave of us. We let her go;
for we at least could not bring ourselves to lay hands upon a noble
lady."

"Do you suppose, young upstart, that it was less painful to me and many
another among us? Cursed be this day, that has soiled our weapons with
the blood of women and slaves, and may every drachma which I take from
the plunder here bring ill-luck with it! Call the accident that has kept
you out of this despicable work a stroke of good fortune, but beware how
you look down upon those whose oath forces them to crush out every human
feeling from their hearts! The soldier who takes part with his
commander's enemy--"

He was interrupted by the entrance of Johanna, the Christian, who saluted
the legate, and then stood confused and embarrassed by the side of
Apollinaris's bed. The furtive glance she cast first at the side-room and
then at Nemesianus did not pass unobserved by the quick eye of the
commander, and with soldierly firmness he insisted on knowing what was
concealed behind that door.

"No," replied Nemesianus. "It is only a poor, wounded painter. And
yet--the praetorians will go through fire and water for you, if you
deliver up this man to them as their booty. But if you are what I hold
you to be--"

"The opinion of hot-headed boys is of as little consequence to me as the
favor of my subordinates," interposed the commander. "Whatever my con
science tells me is right, I shall do. Quick, now! Who is in there?"

"The brother of the maiden for whose sake Caesar--" stammered the wounded
man.

"The maiden whom you have to thank for that disfigured face?" cried the
legate. "You are true Aurelians, you boys; and, though you may doubt
whether I am the man you take me for, I confess with pleasure that you
are exactly as I would wish to have you. The praetorians have slain your
friend and servant; I give you that man to make amends for it."

With deep emotion Nemesianus seized his old friend's hands, and
Apollinaris spoke words of gratitude to him from his couch. The officer
would not listen to their thanks, and walked toward the door; but Johanna
stood before him, and entreated him to allow the twins, whose servant had
been killed, to take another, from whom they need have no fear of
treachery. He had been captured in the impluvium by the praetorians while
trying, in the face of every danger, to enter the house where the painter
lay, to whose father he had belonged for many years. He would be able to
tend both Apollinaris and Melissa's brother, and make it possible to keep
Alexander's hiding-place a secret. The soldiery would be certain to
penetrate as far as this, and other lives would be endangered if they
should bear off the faithful servant and force him on the rack to
disclose where Melissa's father and relatives were hidden.

A few more words of thanks and farewell, and Quintus had fulfilled his
mission to the Aurelians. Shortly afterward the tuba sounded to assemble
the plunderers still scattered about Seleukus's house, and Nemesianus saw
the men marching in small companies into the great hall. They were
followed by their armor-bearers, loaded with treasure of every kind; and
three chariots, drawn by fine horses, belonging to Seleukus and his
murdered wife, conveyed such booty as was too heavy for men to carry. In
the last of these stood the statue of Eros by Praxiteles. The glorious
sunshine lighted up the smiling marble face; with the charm of bewitching
beauty he seemed to gaze at the lurid crimson pools on the ground, and at
the armed cohorts which marched in front to shed more blood and rouse
more hatred.

As Nemesianus withdrew from the window, Argutis came into the room. The
legate had released him; and when Johanna conducted the faithful fellow
to Alexander's bedside, and he saw the youth lying pale and with closed
eyes, as though death had claimed him for his prey, the old man dropped
on his knees, sobbing loudly.